The Malevolent Deity of Termina
by Higuraii-Oni
Summary: A Majora's Mask AU taking place after the defeat of Majora. Focused around The Fierce Deity Mask and the one inside of it. Later chapters may be rated M, as they will contain scenes of violence, possibly extreme. I've never written fan fiction before so hopefully later chapters will be longer.


**Prologue **

Blurred colors were the only things he could see. He had barely a second to gather his surroundings after putting on the mask before a whip came and smacked him into the wall with massive force. He could hear it physically crack behind him as he slid down it.

He barely had any control of this body. The moment he put the mask to his face he realized this. His limbs were heavy and unresponsive. Right now the only thing he could do was watch as this monster danced with joy at the sight of his pain. Surely the dance would end soon, and if he didn't move soon, would be dead. He was able to move his fingers, but his arms refused to do a thing. Goddesses, why?

This was the most important battle, he couldn't lose this. Majora must have planned this. It knew that this false face would affect Link in this way. He should've know better. He couldn't even reach his hand up to tear the blasted thing off. It was by some miracle that he began to move his legs, though they were heavy. If he could just use them to push his weight up the wall. Barely an inch, another whip came and smacked him back down, Majora's giggling growing loud as it happened.

The tendril had come down on his head, making his vision incredibly worse. Instead of blurred colors, it was turning black. Everything was turning black. He shut his eyes. Many times during this adventure, he had wanted to cry, but he had held them back. There was no stopping it this time though. It was a quiet, childish sob. But then what else would it have been? That's just what he was. A _child. _

He reached up and wiped his tears as they came. Wait…he could move his limbs again? He snapped his eyes open, hoping to see just that. Instead he was met with his original limbs, from his real body. He was in his real body, surrounded by pure darkness. What had happened? Had he passed out? Had he _died? _Either way, this was becoming terrifying with each passing second. He couldn't even see the ground below him. It was just a void of darkness in every direction. There was no noise, as well, only causing the young boy to be more on age.

With no warning, he felt a hand on his head. He did not jump, nor squeal in fright. He stood completely still, afraid to see if it was the hand of death coming for him or something else. The hand rustled his blond hair.

"Allow me to take care of this, little one. You are tired."

The voice was deep and cold. There was no kindness in the words, rather, it sounded like an order. The hand removed itself from his head. Link's eyes shifted to the side as he heard the sound of shifting fabric and a single footstep. Someone very tall walked by. He couldn't catch his face, nor did he have the time to evaluate the man's real height, but it was much _much _taller than he expected. Short silvery hair in a lowset ponytail flowed from their head. Every other aspect of their figure was hidden by a large purple cape.

The small boy opened his mouth, about to say something when another way of darkness before him cut him off. His eyes grew suddenly heavy. That purple colored cape was the last thing he saw before his eyes shut again, not to reopen for what would feel like hours.

**Chapter 1 : The Mask**

Link was going to sleep for days. The fireworks and cheers of the festival could still be heard as he reached the edge between Termina and whatever world lay before him. He almost forgot his original reason for setting out on this damn adventure. Navi. He almost forgot Navi. It had been less than a month since he had set off from Hyrule, but it seemed like years. It was because of Termina, because of the Skull Kid, the moon, because of Majora that his orientation of time was screwed up. Now he could sleep peacefully. At least, as peacefully as he could.

His last battle had been a blur. He didn't even remember it except for the end, where Majora lay before him an absolute shattered mess. There was no blood, no anything. Just a twisted and broken mask on floor in front of him. A bright flash, and he had suddenly appeared in Termina Field. Everything was happening so quickly that his mind was having a rough time trying to keep up. Only after the mask salesman appeared did he finally get his grip. Things were finally quieting down. Finally. He had begun to hate this place.

In Hyrule, he was able to fight off the King of Darkness himself, but not without going through some traumatic experiences. He was only ten years old. He had seen things that no child should ever have to go through. It only got worse after he woke up from his seven year sleep. His body and mind were completely different. Sure, he had become physically stronger and more fit, but his mentality had not changed one bit. It had been difficult to understand some adult concepts that he should've already understood had he he grown up normally. He also wasn't as pressed for time, giving him the ability to take each of Ganondorf's challenges when he built up the confidence.

Termina was different. The moment he stepped into this word, the weight of it's existence washed upon his shoulders. Unlike Hyrule, when he had woken up, it had already gone through it's hell. He had never, firsthand, experienced the rough change of Hyrule as Ganondorf altered it to his image. What had befallen it had occurred while he was asleep. And while he had felt extreme guilt and remorse for not being there for everyone, there was a small, guilty bit if him that was happy that he didn't gone through the suffering like the others. Ganondorf had wanted to rule Hyrule, to recreate it in his own image. But for Termina, Majora had wanted to see everything utterly destroyed. It did not care to rule, or at least, did not reveal that as an interest. Everything had happened too quickly for him in this world. Thank the goddesses Zelda had given him the Ocarina of Time before leaving Hyrule. Termina would have fallen. He would've failed not just everyone but himself as well. This place had done something to him. He was never so nervous about monsters back in Hyrule. He never wanted to experience this place again. It was far too cruel.

Setting up camp for the night, Link scrambled through his small satchel and found the meat he had cooked from last night, warmed it back up with the heat of his small fire, and continued shifting through the bag. Oh. He had almost forgotten… He pulled out a mask, the last one in his possession.

The Fierce Deity's mask was still very much a mystery to him….and it scared him. Majora had told him absolutely nothing about the mask other than it's name. Just like every other mask, when he put it on for the first time, he had to get himself re oriented and focused. But the body he had gained was more difficult to control than any of the other masks. He almost died because of it. He wasn't even able to get a good look at the body he had possessed before that first swing of Majora's body he had gained possessed a heavy double helixed sword, and that was all he knew. And then there was that figure he met.

He was incredibly tall from what he could barely remember. However their words were words were completely gone from Link's mind. He was not so much terrifying, but mysterious. The man had never shown any hatred toward Link, nonetheless look at him. And then, nothing. that was it. Whoever it was, they had defeated Majora in his absence. That was the most reasonable reason behind the sight he saw waking up. Either that, or had taken the monster on in his _sleep._ Was that man the soul of this mask? Was _he _the Fierce Deity? An ache in the back of his mind pulled him back to reality.

Link removed his dinner from the fire as he stared down at this mask. Pale wooden eyes stared eerily back at him. It was probably best to leave the mask in Termina where it rightfully belonged. He could bury it deep into the ground, in the hopes that it wouldn't be unearthed. But the more he thought about it, the worse of an idea that became. He didn't have the energy to try and dig a deep hole. The power housed in this mask was palpable, so in theory, it could perhaps escape. If it was able to take a mind of it's own...like Majora. If some poor soul found the mask, history could possibly repeat itself. This mask appeared to be worse than Majora the more he thought about it. No, It was probably best he took the mask with him, at least for the time being. Maybe he could learn a little more about the mask as he went along his way.

"What are you?" Link spoke to himself quietly as he reexamined the mask.

The paint looked brand new and fresh, which was very odd, for the mask had an ancient feeling to it. He ate his dinner and pondered. One thing was for sure. He was never putting that mask on again. Link closed his satchel and placed it flat on the ground. He rested his head upon it and he got into a comfortable position to sleep. He continued to stare at the mask as he started to drift off. Thinking it best to keep it from sight, he covered it with a few large leaves that were laying around it. As he laid the last leaf on, he noticed that paint on the mask was…wet? The markings on it seem to run. However, Link was too exausted to care now. He fell asleep the moment he put his arm back down beside his head.

The sun peered through the trees as the next day officially began. Link could feel warmth beaming down on him and he welcomed it. The hunger of his stomach woke him. He slowly sat up and looked around, his mind waking as well as he got a grip on his surroundings. A yawn escaped from his mouth, he rubbed drool from his face and sat on his knees. He glanced at the leaves covering the mask. Peeling the leaves away, he noticed that the paint was still wet. He dragged the mask off the ground and stuck it back in his satchel. The air quickly began to chill around him. Having a good sense for these things by now, Link grabbed his sword and started the area. He froze as he saw a figure sitting on the other side of the fire. Panic set and he pointed his sword at the figure. A few seconds of sense and clearness came to him in that adrenaline of panic. The figure reminded him of the one he seen from his unconscious vision. they had the same grey hair and a large mass about them, but he had no cape. This figure was wearing decorative armor, a pale blue tunic underneath it. Black linen leotards underneath that. His face was the most striking thing about him. Two red streaks were painted onto each cheek. The paint itself could very well be blood. A central blue marking covered his forehead. Then there were his eyes. They were soulless, no pupil, no iris, nothing. just pale nothingness.

The man looked at Link with furrowed brows. He was still as a statue. The only thing that moved was his mouth. He commanded in a familiar, deep voice.

"Free Me."


End file.
